It Had To Be You
by mercy-angel-09
Summary: Sometimes the person you're looking for has been right in front of you the whole time. Like. Literally. Five years you two idiots wasted. Part One of the Out of the Bag Series. (Marichat; Adrinette. Cross-posted to AO3.)


**I am Marichat traaaaaaaaaaaaaash~~~**

 **I don't know why *smut* was the first thing I had to write for this fandom, but here we are. Not overly graphic (hence the Mature rating), but still. I'm writing smut. For a kid's show. (Couldn't start with just straight up fluff, oh no, had to go hardcore first.)**

 **One way ticket to hell riding on what I assume will be Donald Trump's greased corpse. Feel free to hop on with me, kiddies.**

* * *

There is a sense of familiarity as Chat Noir bounds across the Paris rooftops. In the five years that he's been serving as one of Paris' protectors he's come to cherish the freedom his alter ego allows. As Adrien Agreste he is expected to behave a certain way. As Chat Noir he can be more like himself.

Tonight, as with many a night before, he has a single destination in mind – the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

It started five years ago when he'd been assigned by Ladybug to protect his classmate Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The stuttering girl who had never been able to string a coherent sentence together around Adrien Agreste had easily conversed with Chat Noir, and it made Adrien curious about her. From that moment on he started making routine visits to her rooftop, conversing with her about everything and nothing. He found himself to be quite fond of her, of her passion to help others, her gentle nature, and loving spirit. She reminded him a little of his Lady, though Marinette would teasingly respond to his flirting while Ladybug would brush it off with a roll of the eyes and a sass back.

When they finally graduated from secondary school, Marinette's talent as a designer had blossomed, earning her a prestigious internship with Gabriel Agreste. This meant that while most of their classmates had moved on to university, Marinette split her time between the fashion design school and the Agreste mansion. That had been one unexpected upside, in that it had allowed Adrien to get closer to Marinette without a mask on. It took almost a year before she could hold a normal conversation with him, but now words flow between them like water. They laugh and banter and Adrien finds himself cherishing the friendship he has built with her and yet he yearns for more.

Other things have changed over the years well. First was the realization that his Lady would never return his affection. It had been disheartening, of course, but Adrien is a resilient sort of fellow. The last few months in particular had been particularly eye opening, as he started to notice little things about Marinette, like the way her eyes sparkle when she talks of a new design or how giddy she gets over little things like café au lait and a fresh croissant. Her kindness and compassion is unwavering, and as Adrien's infatuation with Ladybug decreases, his infatuation with Marinette had increases.

Which is why he's currently perched on an adjacent rooftop to the bakery, attempting to calm his nerves.

Only yesterday did Marinette drop the bomb that she was going to be home alone for the next two weeks. Her parents were on vacation in the south of France for their 25th wedding anniversary, leaving the bakery in the care of their small staff and Marinette to watch their flat. It's the only reason why Adrien is even considering doing what he's about to do, and if he wasn't bolstered by Chat Noir's confidence he'd be sitting at home doing nothing.

Instead he's doing something.

He taps on the glass of the skylight and waits.

Marinette is supposed to be working on a new design. It's part homework, part assignment from her boss, but she can't seem to concentrate. Everything has been such a jumble for her as of late, and despite Tikki's best attempts, nothing seems to be settling Marinette's feelings.

She likes her friendship Adrien. Now that she can actually talk to him she finds that he's everything she imagined him to be, though perhaps a bit more boring. She supposes that he seemed more exciting when there was still an air of mystery about him, but now that she was practically living at the Agreste mansion part time, a lot of the mystery was gone. Adrien was Adrien.

 _That's not a bad thing_ , she muses as she taps her pencil against her sketchbook. Adrien is steady and dependable. He's sweet and friendly, though his sense of humor comes off a bit odd at times. He may be one of France's top models, but in many ways he's normal.

But Chat Noir…

She lets out a groan and her head drops to the sketchbook.

She's flattered by the attention at first because she always thought that Chat wouldn't want anything to do with her if he knew the real her. She always figured he was flirtatious and flippant, so as Ladybug she easily brushes his compliments and innuendos aside. A romantic entanglement with him would probably end in disaster anyway.

Then it happens. She starts spending time with Chat Noir as Marinette and she finds him funny and charming. True, the puns are a bit much, but he smiles and teases and as far as Marinette can tell he's completely sincere. Chat Noir genuinely likes her. Not as Ladybug, but as Marinette Dupain-Cheng, aspiring fashion designer and daughter of bakers. She's toyed with the idea of revealing her identity to him, showing him that he's completely earned her trust. Chat has shown that he cares about all aspects of her, so perhaps she should give him the chance to allow her to care about all aspects of him. After all, he's been the one trying to get under her mask for the last five years.

The gentle tapping at her skylight pulls her from her muddled thoughts. Chat's appearance isn't unexpected – he's been routinely visiting her over the last five years – though the timing is…interesting. She's home alone. She's feeling daring. She has a feeling that a line will be crossed tonight.

She lets him in, and smiles at how comfortable he is as he stretches his lithe body out on the divan. He watches her put her sketchbook and pencils away, admiring the grace with which she moves. True, Marinette could be clumsy, but she was also lithe and graceful and elegant.

"So what brings you around, kitty?" she asks as she resumes her seat in her desk chair.

"Oh, had some extra time after my patrol," he says with a casual shrug that is totally not casual.

"I see," she says, her lips twitching.

"And what have you been doing tonight, Princess?"

She sighs. "Work. Homework, work work. It never ends."

She has his sympathy. Nobody understands what a taskmaster Gabriel Agreste is quite like his own son. "You need to remember to take some time for yourself. Burning yourself out because you worked too hard would just be paw-ful." He caps the sentence with a cheeky grin, which gets wider when she rolls her eyes but grins back. He then allows his expression to sober. "So…do I need to be careful?"

Marinette's eyebrows shoot up. Sometimes when he comes over her parents are out for the evening, giving them some alone time that they make the best of. There's usually kissing and maybe a little groping (and yes, Marinette can tell you just how nice Chat Noir's ass feels in all that leather, thank you very much), but it never gets beyond that. But tonight there is no overprotective father who would have absolutely no qualms about strangling one of Paris' heroes if he stumbled across the unlucky black cat fondling his baby girl.

"No, not for the next two weeks, actually," she answers, trying to gauge his response.

He lets out a low hum, his green eyes sparkling. "Is that so?"

And it's not like he doesn't know already. Marinette's already babbled about how nice it'll be to have the flat to herself and how she'll enjoy some of the freedom that comes with it. Maybe one day when she's a famous designer she'll have a place of her own and this is a trial run of what it would be like. He assumes that means he'll be free to visit her as he pleases, and for some strange reason that makes his heart soar.

She nods. "They're vacationing in the south for their wedding anniversary."

"That sounds nice," he murmurs because now he's imagining Marinette stretched out on one the beaches of Nice, wearing a cute bikini as he sits next to her and gloats that she's with him.

"It does, doesn't it?" she says with a smile. "But having the flat to myself is also quite nice."

"Then perhaps, princess, we should take advantage of it," he says as he stands.

There's no definable date as to when Marinette fell for Chat Noir. It was so gradual that part of her thinks that she always loved him. Their first kiss – no, not that kiss from the Dark Cupid incident – came quite by accident when Marinette had gone to give Chat a peck on the cheek only for him to turn his head at just the right moment for their lips to connect. The rest, as they say, is history.

They start off with slow, languid kisses. There's no urgency between them tonight, no worry of being interrupted by overprotective parents. Chat Noir feels like that for once in his life he might actually be lucky. And get lucky, but that is neither here nor there.

The divan is where they settle first, with Marinette straddling Chat Noir's hips. They keep their kisses relaxed and leisurely, Marinette's hands bury themselves in Chat Noir's fluffy blond mane while his hands rest on her hips.

Over the course of an hour things start to heat up between them. Hips grind together, hands grope, lips become more daring and Chat Noir almost loses it when Marinette sucks on his tongue. He's still dressed but Marinette is down to her underwear, and he wishes he could be nearly naked just to feel the sensation of her skin against his. He reminds himself to be patient, though, as they have all night. They have the next two weeks, really, but he's waited for nearly five years for this so what's another few hours?

"We should move somewhere more comfortable," she breathes between kisses.

"Of course, Princess," he agrees. "Your bed?"

Marinette blushes but dear God yes, that's exactly what she has in mind. She nods and indicates to the steps that lead up to her bed's loft. She urges him up while she turns out lights and pulls the blinds closed. The sky is cloudy and moonless, and her room is dark, much darker than she usually keeps it. By memory she finds her way to her bed, and from the way the mattress dips she knows that Chat is sitting on it.

"Are you…" her voice cracks, then she clears her throat and tries again, "are you comfortable?"

"As the day I was born," he replies and Marinette is suddenly thankful for the dark that hides what is surely a luminescent blush.

"Good," she squeaks out. She wants to lie down on her bed and get comfortable but suddenly everything feels awkward and unnatural. She lies on her back, stiff and nervous.

Then with all the lithe grace of his namesake, Chat Noir slides up the mattress so he's lying next to her. He strokes her face, then trails his fingers down the column of her throat, over the swell of her cotton and lace encased breast, along the length of her stomach, and finally settles them at the waistband of her panties. She can feel the heat from his body radiating from him and yup oh golly gee he's very much naked and very happy to be with her. _Goodness._

"Will you let me love you?" he murmurs against the skin of her shoulder.

"Yes," she answers with a breathy hiss.

It's the only signal he needs. He positions himself over her and begins to kiss her. He starts at her mouth before feathering kisses along her cheekbones and her ears and her jaw. Then his mouth follows the path his fingers blazed earlier, pausing long enough to reach under her and unclasp her bra and then remove it, before he gives attention to her breasts. He alternates between licking and sucking, occasionally flicking his tongue against her hardened nipples. She moans in response and he smiles against her skin, before he continues south.

She giggles softly as he plants feather light kisses across her belly, then sucks in a breath when his teeth tug at the waistband of her panties.

"Up, please," he commands gently and she complies, lifting her hips from the mattress and trying not to completely die of mortification because she's completely naked now that he's removed her panties.

On the one hand she is completely exposed to him, but on the other he is also exposed to her. She knows that the only way that Chat Noir could be naked is if he had released his transformation and stripped out of his clothes. If Marinette flicked the lights on, she would see the face beneath Chat Noir's mask. But what he's done tonight is put his faith and trust completely in her hands and she can't bring herself to betray her beloved partner.

She lets out a strangled squeak when his fingers brush against the sensitive flesh between her legs. Chat freezes, pulling his hand back. "Did I do something wrong? Should I stop?" he asks, and he sounds so damn nervous and uncertain that Marinette is convinced that she's about to melt from the sweetness of it all.

"You're fine," she assures him. "I didn't know what to expect, ah, um, how it would feel. I've…I've never done this before." Her voice fades as she makes her confession, once again happy for the darkness that hides her embarrassment.

He chuckles softly. "I understand. I haven't ever…I mean…this is my first time."

Well okay then.

With shaking hands he begins to stroke the slick folds, seeing her most intimate parts with the pads of his fingers. He listens to her as he caresses, cataloguing what she likes by breathy moans and sighs. With a smirk he brushes the pad of his thumb against the fleshy protrusion above her opening and when she moans loudly in pleasure he realizes that he's found her clit. His attention quickly shifts and even after he plunges one finger into her slick opening, he still focuses on her clit and it doesn't take long before she's writhing and trembling and moaning as she climaxes.

As she lies panting on her mattress, he smirks to himself and licks his fingers clean. The taste is different but not unpleasant, and perhaps later in the night he'll see if he can bring her pleasure with his lips and tongue. However, right now he wants to be fully immersed in her, joined with her in the most intimate of ways. He fumbles for his clothes in the dark and lets out a hum when he finally snags his jeans. Reaching into the pocket he removes one of the foil packets and opens it. He's suddenly glad that he practiced putting a condom on in the dark, because he's a bit of a nervous wreck and his hands shake slightly as he rolls the prophylactic down his shaft. He's certain that he loves her, but they're only twenty, far too young to have the responsibilities of a family. When the time is right he'll tell her the truth, but now is not that time. All he wants for now is show the woman he loves, the woman that loves him back, how much he feels for her.

"Chat?" she asks, her voice timid.

"Right here, Princess," he says as he runs a hand up and down the smooth skin of her leg.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking precautions."

"Oh," she squeaks out, because it wasn't something she'd considered.

"Are you ready?" he asks as he places his tip at her opening.

She nods, then remembers that it's dark and he's without his transformation and Chat's handy night vision, so she finds her voice. "Yes," she hisses.

Slowly, oh so very slowly, he eases himself into her. He can feel the heat through the polyisoprene of the condom. For some reason he'd gotten hung up on a latex allergy of all things, despite no evidence to support that she even has one, but he figured what the hell and got the non-latex condoms. It's going to be his first time, no reason to make it unnecessarily awkward because she has an allergic reaction in the middle of it.

She lets out a soft moan as he fills and stretches her. He's not overly large, she doesn't think, but a rather nice fit for her. There's no pain, thank God, though some minor discomfort as her body adjusts to him.

"Tell me when I can move," he says after he's fully sheathed in her.

"In a minute," she answers, her voice breathy. He feels different, but good, and when she squeezes her thighs around his hips, he takes it as his cue to start moving.

Slow strokes to start, as they adjust to the new sensations. He can feel her walls rippling around him and it's driving him crazy, so he tries to remember physics formulas to keep himself from climaxing too soon. She can feel him sliding in and out, and he's angled just right to brush the bundle of nerves within her and without realizing it her voice gets louder. Soon she's moaning and crying out gibberish and he's fighting to hang in there for just a minute longer as he picks up his pace, feathering kisses along her neck and collarbone. The minute she goes over the edge and tightens around him he's a goner and he makes one, two, three, hard thrusts as he climaxes.

They're both panting as they come down from their orgasms, each pressing kisses to the other's skin. He playfully nips at her throat and collarbone; she brushes her tongue against his shoulder in a series of hot, open mouthed kisses.

"Miraculous," he snickers as he finally pulls out and rolls to the side.

"Ugh, that was terrible," she groans.

"You wouldn't happen to have a trashcan nearby?" he asks as he carefully removes the used condom and ties the top.

"Um, hold on," she mumbles as she gropes in the darkness for the small trashcan she keeps by her bed in case of runny noses. Her fingers brush the lip of the can and she grabs it and pulls it to rest between her legs. She then gropes for Chat's hand and she finds the used condom first, still warm and slick from use. With a sigh she guides it to the trashcan and nods when she hears it land amongst the tissues. After she sets the can back on the floor, she settles herself back against the mattress and Chat Noir cuddles himself around her. His body is warm against hers, and she erupts in gooseflesh when he nuzzles her neck.

 _Silly kitty_ , she thinks, but there's something nice about being held by him.

It's not something she'd allow him to do as Ladybug. Chat Noir doesn't need any more distractions when they're battling akumas; he's bad enough as it is.

"Are you sleeping here tonight?" she asks, wondering if she should set an alarm on her phone so he can get away without giving away his civilian identity.

The cat actually has the stones to smirk against her skin and quip, "Who said anything about sleeping, Princess?"

Marinette realizes that she's not going to get much rest this night.

Several hours later Marinette's eyes flutter open to a much lighter room. She shifts, noting the weight that's resting against her waist, then the sensation of lips fluttering across her shoulder and neck. "Good morning," Chat practically purrs in her ear, and she suppresses a shudder because my _God_ nobody should have the power to turn her on with just their voice.

She manages a squeaky, "Good morning!" back, closing her eyes and burying her face in her pillow in mortification as he chuckles at her.

"I'm going to have to leave soon, Princess, but I want you one more time before I do," he says softly. "Is that okay?"

Marinette actually lost count of the number of times they had sex last night, and by all accounts she should be sated and unable to move, yet she finds that her body wants more. She wants him. "Of course," she murmurs, and her lips twitch when nuzzles against her back.

"I wish we didn't have to do it like this, but…" his voice trails off as he rolls her on to her stomach. He decides to warm her up a little, rubbing her back and occasionally dropping kisses along her spine. Eventually he pulls her hips from the mattress and positions himself behind her. He misses the intimacy of being face to face, even if they couldn't see each other in the dark. But what he actually misses the ability to kiss her, to cup her face and press his forehead against hers in this most primal of dances.

Once he's covered, he places himself at her opening and slowly pushes himself in. She groans as he fills her, and at first he keeps his rhythm slow and steady. Floating in a sea of sensation, Marinette's mind wanders, wondering just how she got in this position.

…Okay she knows _how_ she got into this particular position. But she doesn't mean sexual position. How she somehow became the lover of Chat Noir when she had previously spent so much time rebuffing his advances. How she finally decided to let that damn alley cat into her heart. How she finally decided that the best thing she could do for her heart was to let Adrien go. At least in the romantic sense.

God, Adrien. She was going to see him today. For so many years he was the one she wanted. Perfect Adrien. Of course she now knew that he wasn't perfect, but flawed Adrien was just as good. But he'd made it perfectly clear in past conversations that he's used to people using him and Marinette just can't bring herself to pursue him romantically when it's likely that he'll assume that she's just using him, too. It breaks her heart, knowing that Adrien doesn't have many people he trusts – Nino is the only who really comes to mind – so she decides that she'll become someone he can trust as well. And to do that she can't be a love interest, she must only be his friend. That's when she allows herself to fall for Chat Noir. To let her silly kitty into her heart. To leave her school girl crush on Adrian behind.

Things have been going well for her and Chat Noir. Too well. This means that Chat Noir's infamous bad luck is bound to rear its ugly head sooner or later.

Or, you know, right now.

"Adrien," Marinette moans, and as Chat stills behind her she realizes exactly what she's done.

 _Frickity frick frick frick!_

She buries her face in her pillow again, wishing that the void will swallow her whole, like, right now please. Her face is burning in mortification and she can feel the blush crawling over her skin like a thousand fire ants.

Chat slides out of her, and for a moment he's too stunned to speak. Marinette starts running through the Worse Case Scenarios and each is equally terrible. She may not have any prior sexual experience, but even she knows it's bad when you moan the wrong guy's name in the middle of intercourse.

It's as Marinette is wishing that she would just dissolve into thin air that Chat Noir finally finds his voice again. "How did you know?" he asks.

Marinette freezes because that is definitely not what she was expecting him to say. She expected some variation of, "Who's Adrien?" and a justified rant about her playing with his heart. She does not expect the soft awe in his voice as he asks her _how she knew._

Because she doesn't freaking know.

With an almost painful slowness she removes her face from her pillow and peeks over her shoulder and _oh holy shit that is a very naked Adrien Agreste sitting on his haunches on her bed dear God smite her now and save her from this nightmare._

"Adrien?!" she squeaks out in shock. She scrambles for a sheet because holy hell she's naked too and they should not be naked together and she's too frazzled to think clearly because if she weren't, she'd realize it was futile because they spent most of the night before having sex, and not five minutes ago were at it again.

"Marinette, are you okay?" he asks. He seems completely unfazed by his nudity. Indeed as Marinette scrambles for a blanket or a sheet or _anything_ , he's placidly sitting at the end of her mattress completely naked, watching her with amusement in his green eyes.

"Oh my God, I can't…holy crap you're…I mean you're…" she gesticulates wildly as she tries to throw a coherent sentence together.

Adrien smiles because it's so Marinette. This is the girl he remembers from secondary school, the shy, bumbling, inarticulate mess that also had such strength and passion and courage. So long as she wasn't talking to him, anyway. "Yeah, I guess the cat is out of the bag, huh?"

She blinks at him, eyes wide, and then she groans and drops her head into her palm as she sighs. "That was terrible, even for you."

He's laughing now, and she looks up at glares at him, but that only makes him laugh harder. "I was…planning on telling you. Uh, after." He blushes and clears his throat, then continues. "I guess I felt like I needed to be honest with you. The thing was, you couldn't talk to Adrien but you talked to Chat Noir and I saw this whole other side of you face to face and I…I liked it. I'd seen glimpses of it when you would stand up to Chloe or were helping out one of our classmates, and I wanted to see more. So I started to visit you as Chat Noir just to talk. Which, uh, led to the kissing. Which led to the, um…"

"Sex," she answers flatly and he as the decency to look ashamed. "Oh kitty, what am I going to do with you?" she sighs as she shakes her head.

"I didn't want to deceive you, Marinette," he says softly. "I just didn't know how else to get you to talk to me. It's only in the last six months that you've been able to hold a conversation with me, as Adrien, without stuttering or stammering."

She sighs because she knows he's right. Talking to Chat Noir was easy. Talking to Adrien was not. She opens her mouth to reply, but her stomach growls loudly and she groans in mortification as Adrien struggles to smother a chuckle. "This conversation is by no means over, but I think we should have breakfast first," she says as she gets up. She lets the blanket drop and she preens a little when she hears him suck in his breath now that he can really see her. She retrieves her pajamas and slips them on, motioning to Adrien that he should get dressed as well.

They enter the kitchen and Marinette's eyes widen as she looks at the cheesy destruction on the counter. "What the heck happened here?" she wonders as she looks around.

Adrien groans in frustration, and sets off to look for his cheese fiend of a kwami.

Plagg, as it turns out, is in a cheese coma on the couch. He's curled up on a pillow with something small and red and Adrien's not quite sure what he's looking at. "Plagg," he whispers at his kwami. "Plagg!"

The cat shaped kwami yawns and then blinks, his wide green eyes looking blearily up at his chosen. "Mmm, Adrien? Time to go already?"

"Not quite," Adrien sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. "You left a mess in the kitchen."

"Told you," mumbles the small red…sprite thing…from its spot on the pillow.

"I'll clean it up later, Tikki," Plagg says with a yawn.

"Or you could clean it up now," Adrien says with a firm edge to his voice. Then he frowns. "Tikki?"

The little red sprite thing yawns and stretches, and soon it's floating in front of him with wide blue eyes. "Uh oh…" it breathes.

"Oh, there you are," Marinette says as she shuffles over from the kitchen. She looks at the black cat kwami and at her own kwami, and puts two and two together in her head. "Cheese?" she asks Tikki.

"Cheese," Tikki confirmed before rolling her eyes. "Some kwami have no sense of taste."

"I have a perfectly fine sense of taste," Plagg defends. "Camembert is delicious!"

"Camembert smells like something died," Tikki says with a groan. "At least cookies smell and taste delicious."

Marinette giggles and rolls her eyes affectionately as the two kwami argue over the best food: cheese or cookies. Adrien, on the other hand, is confused because Marinette doesn't even question Plagg's appearance. Which, hey, is great because he'd really rather not have to deal with her freaking out over it and asking a million questions. Buuuuuut, maybe she could ask one or two? Is that too much to ask for her to at least be a little bit curious about his life as Chat Noir?

He turns his attention to Tikki as she lectures Plagg about all of the wonderful cookies in the world, and notes that she looks a bit like a bug. A red bug. With black spots. Like…a ladybug.

Ladybug?

"Ladybug?" he murmurs, looking between Marinette's amused face and the ranting buglike kwami. "Ladybug?!" he then yelps, pointing at Marinette.

The cocky smirk is identical to his Lady's as Marinette shakes her head. "Took you long enough, silly kitty," she says as she boops his nose with her finger like she's done hundreds of times over the past five years.

"Oh my God," Adrien says and he looks like he's about to pass out or be ill or something, so Marinette gently guides him to the couch and sits him down.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asks. Oh God, she knew this would happen. She knew that he'd be disappointed when he realized that the amazing and wonderful Ladybug was actually the boring and awkward Marinette.

He looks dazed, but he manages a grin. "Yeah, I think I will be."

"You sure?" she asks, biting her lip. "I mean, you must have had this ideal of who was under the mask and I know I'm nothing like Ladybug. I'm awkward and clumsy and just all around uncool, and you're probably wondering why you even liked her in the first place and mmmmph!"

Adrien cuts her rambling off with a kiss. He's been trying to resolve his feelings for Marinette and Ladybug for almost a year now and to learn that they're one and the same resolves everything. Makes everything better. His Lady is also his dearest friend and he can have them both, he doesn't have to choose.

"You're perfect," he breathes as he pulls away, and he pointedly ignores the soft sigh from Tikki and the disgusted groan from Plagg. "You're perfect because you're you and I don't want anyone else. I just want…you. All of you. Marinette and Ladybug."

Of course this is both the right and wrong thing to say, as Marinette bursts into tears. Happy tears, but tears nonetheless.

"Uh, Marinette?" Adrien asks. He's never been good with crying women.

"You dumb alley cat," she sniffles before she launches herself at him and hugs him tightly.

He sighs in relief and hugs her back. "So we're okay?"

"We're perfect," she answers as she leans up to give him a soft peck on the lips.

"Thank God," he murmurs and then kisses her back.

"To think," Plagg muses from the side as the kiss between Adrien and Marinette deepens, "they wasted five years by insisting they keep their Miraculous lives and civilian lives separate."

"Plagg!" Tikki snarls, grabbing him by his tail and taking him up to Marinette's room. "I think they already know that!"

"Then what's the problem?" the black cat kwami asks.

"You're an idiot," Tikki grumbles.

Meanwhile, on the couch, five years of pent up emotion come rushing out. Who the hell cares about their plans for the day? They had lost time to make up for. In the most miraculous of ways.


End file.
